


Comfort Food

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-19
Updated: 2006-05-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 15:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: She never used to eat whole packets of cookies.I had a pairing in mind when I wrote this, but I've decided not to say who, and leave it to you to make up your own minds about who you feel most fits this. Like all my other work, this is a one-shot drabble, so enjoy!





	Comfort Food

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

I had a pairing in mind when I wrote this, but I've decided not to say who, and leave it to you to make up your own minds about who you feel most fits this. Like all my other work, this is a one-shot drabble, so enjoy! 

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She’s eaten a whole packet of cookies. One by one, hand to mouth in an automatic motion, chew, swallow, reach for the next. It’s her way of connecting. She used to eat two, maybe three. Four, when pushed, or when really hungry. Now she eats them by the packet, because that’s how he does it.

 

She was amazed the first time she saw it — then again, she used to do the same with ice cream. She’d start a tub, and by the time she was finished with the film she was engrossed in, or the book she just couldn’t put down, it would be gone. His vice was, apparently, cookies. He’d eat them in one bite — the small, chocolate chip ones, with the half-melted chocolate that seemed to ooze into your mouth. He’d be captivated by something else, hand moving on autopilot from packet to mouth and back again, until he could feel nothing but crumbs. They’d started having them as a breakfast treat, and then, when she was feeling particularly indulgent, she’d bring the cookies with his tea, and be rewarded with a smile that would melt her insides.

 

Now, she eats them to remind her of that smile. The crooked grin that she thinks might just be the reason she fell in love with him in the first place, with the childish delight at the thought of his favourite treat, combined with that sparkle in his eyes that belonged to him, him alone. Her hand moves back from mouth to packet, feeling another cookie, and she eats, savouring the sweet chocolate and the crunchy biscuit, and she misses him so much it hurts, so much that she’s eaten the whole packet of cookies, and still it doesn’t fill the hole inside. She eats them to connect with him, because somewhere in the big, wide world, he’s out there, eating a whole packet of cookies on autopilot, and that thought makes her feel a tiny bit closer.

 

She wonders if he ever thinks of her in that way — if he’s picked up some odd habit to connect to her. If he’s stolen some mannerism of hers, and made it his own, so that he can feel closer. She can’t think of what he might do — what does she do that seems strange, unique? She bites her lip, but she can’t imagine him doing that, not when he started telling her to stop when he realised it gave her chapped lips. She’s never stopped though — her parent’s have been telling her not to since she was five, she doesn’t think he’ll be able to break her of a habit ingrained since childhood. He can’t play with his rings the way she does, seeing as he doesn’t wear rings. Does he bite his nails? Play with his hair? Maybe there’s some unknown habit that she never thought of, and secretly when they’re not together, he mimics her in a semi-unconscious attempt to bridge the void between them.

 

She guesses she’ll never know — she doesn’t think she’ll tell him about her cookies. The next time they eat them together, she’ll only eat two, three, or four at a push, because he’ll be there and there will be no need to bridge gaps, feel closer. All she needs to do then is call him back to bed, and snuggle up into his arms, and she’ll feel safer than she ever has before. His arms feel like home.

 

But until then, while they’re apart, she’ll eat a packet of cookies, hand moving back and forth from packet to mouth on autopilot. And she’ll bite her lip, and twist her rings, and hold her breath until she can be home again.


End file.
